


Mark of the Serpent

by UnproblematicMe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dark(ish) Crowley (Good Omens), Degrading Dirty Talk, Dirty Talk, Dominant Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Marking, Mentions of Slavery, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Crowley, Possessive Sex, Rough Sex, Submissive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), different kinds of marking, mentions of rape/noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/pseuds/UnproblematicMe
Summary: Aziraphale takes a short trip to Hell and makes it back in one piece. But he brought something with him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 564
Collections: Dark Crowley, Tip Top Stories, Top Crowley Library





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! You know the drill: This is porn, I'm a sinner, mind the tags! ;)

**Hell, 6 months after Armageddon**

Aziraphale felt a harsh sting in his left shoulder the moment he stepped out of the elevator. Maybe it was the reaction of his angelic form to entering Hell. It was not the first time he was here, but during his last visit he had been in a body that was used to Hell.

There was no time to ponder this. The pain was gone as fast as it had come and now he had to be alert. A lot of demons feared him since they thought him immune to Hellfire, meaning they believed he could harm them but not the other way around. The higher ranked demons however did not fear his powers and sure had other methods of making him suffer than just Hellfire.

He took a few steps into the gloomy hallway, dark figures moving away, pressing themselves against the wall.

A lithe figure appeared and made their way towards him. It was a demon that was most definitely not afraid of the little principality while he was pretty much afraid of her. Dagon. Nervously Aziraphale gripped the book in his hands tighter.

Slightly walking, or better limping, behind Dagon, was a miserable looking demon. In the shape of a young black man in eccentric, but probably stylish clothes[1] he followed the Lord of the Files. Judging by Crowley’s description it could have been the demon that had delivered the Hellfire to Heaven, but Aziraphale could not be sure.

“I expected Crowley,” Dagon spoke, her voice echoing through the narrow hallway.

“Ah yes, well, you know,” Aziraphale answered with a nervous smile. “Crowley is of the opinion that you– and I quote – and all of those stupid assholes down here can fuck themselves.”

For the fracture of a second a light smile played along Dagon’s lips.

“Fair enough,” she then said. “But why are you here? You do not owe me anything.”

“No, but Crowley told me that your – friend over there,” Aziraphale pointed at the young man behind her. “Not only had his skin tattooed with the runes by that coven but they also stuck runes made of metal into his body. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Dagon nodded. “Keeps him from using his powers and shields his body against all magic so others cannot miracle them out either. Discorporating doesn’t help since they cling to his essence.”

“Well, yes, I suspected as much. That sounds very painful”

“Doesn’t answer my question why you are here.”

“To give you this.” Aziraphale handed her the book. “There are only very few copies of this book. Whatever there is to know about runes or their removal is in it. Every counteraction known to humans. If there is a way to help your friend, it is in there.”

Carefully Dagon took the old tome, not once taking her eyes of Aziraphale.

“What do you want in exchange?” she asked suspiciously.

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice, dear,” Aziraphale smiled lightly.

“Once again,” she hissed. “Why are you doing this?”

“As I said,” Aziraphale answered, confused. “It sounds very painful. Your friend must suffer horribly.”

Dagon open her mouth to say something but closed it again immediately. For a second she stared at Aziraphale, then turned towards the demon behind her, then back to Aziraphale.

“So… you are doing this out of compassion?” she asked incredulously.

“Erm, yes, of course. Why?”

Dagon laughed and it sounded very human.

“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. “Just didn’t know angels were still doing compassion these days.”

She held up the book and nodded.

“This is appreciated, angel,” she told him, apparently her idea of a ‘thank you’.

“I hope it helps.” Aziraphale bowed politely.

Dagon tilted her head and looked over the angel’s shoulder.

“Get back to work, you stinking bastards,” she yelled. “Let him go.”

Surprised Aziraphale turned around to find that the demons had come eerily close to him. But after Dagon’s command the crowd dispersed[2] and revealed the path back to the elevator. When Aziraphale wanted to say goodbye to Dagon, he saw that the Lord of the Files was already walking away, along the dark hallway deeper into Hell.

He hurried back to the elevator that took him to Earth.

**Soho, 6 months and 3 hours after Armageddon**

“I asked it once and I ask again,” Crowley growled, clutching his glass, threatening to break it. “How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

The demon was pacing in front of the armchair in Aziraphale’s backroom where the angel was sitting, trying to enjoy his scotch. Which of course of not easy with a pacing demon in the room.

“Dear, please,” he pleaded. “Will you calm down, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Crowley asked dangerously, ripping off his sunglasses to glower at Aziraphale more effectively[3]. “You went to Hell! For that bastard who wanted to hit you when you were helpless.”

“I said it _could_ have been him, not that I was sure,” Aziraphale said. “And he must be in great pain.”

“Who cares?”

“I do, Crowley,” the angel answered firmly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t and I won’t sit by idly when someone is suffering. Not if I can do something to help.”

At that Crowley’s face softened. Of course Aziraphale would. That was one reason – one of many reasons – the angel was so special to him. Unlike others who see themselves as the “good guys” Aziraphale actually really cared about people and went through great lengths to help them, even so far as to endanger himself.

“I understand, angel” Crowley said softly. “But don’t act like it’s ‘no big deal’. You know it is. That’s why you didn’t tell me. You knew I wouldn’t allow it.”

He took a sip of scotch, noticing in the corner of his eye how the angel side eyed him.

“ _Allow_ it?” Aziraphale repeated with a raised brow.

Realizing his slip-up, Crowley choked on his drink.

“Approve,” he coughed out quickly. “I meant, ‘approve of it’.”

“Well, dear, that’s quite a difference in seman… ouch.” Aziraphale stopped mid lecturing and grabbed at his left shoulder with a pained expression.

“What is it?” Concerned Crowley was by his side within the blink of an eye.

“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale confessed. “A stinging in my left shoulder. I felt it first when I entered Hell, I thought my being reacted to that. But it appears now and again.”

“And you didn’t think of mentioning it?” Crowley snapped at him and moved behind Aziraphale’s chair.

When he grabbed the angel’s collar roughly, Aziraphale protested.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Moving your clothes aside to check on your shoulder,” Crowley answered. “And I WILL check! You can let me look from here or undress completely.”

Aziraphale blushed profusely and mumbled: “From there.”

 _“Too bad,”_ Crowley thought to himself. _“Why did I let him choose?”_

Suppressing the sigh of disappointment, he moved the fabric of Aziraphale’s vest and shirt aside and peeked underneath the layers. His eyes widened and he gasped.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked worriedly, but Crowley barely heard him.

He just stared at the black snake symbol that had appeared on Aziraphale’s milky white skin.

**Hell, 6 six years before Armageddon**

Self-satisfied Crowley sauntered through Hell. Beelzebub, Ligur and Hastur had bought what he said about the Antichrist and all the lower demons believed everything Crowley said anyway. With them off his back he could meet with Aziraphale and discuss the next steps of influencing Warlock.

With an annoyed sigh he noticed that Hastur and Ligur were heading towards the same elevator to Earth he wanted to take and slowed his steps. He really did not want to spend too much time with them, especially not in a tight space where there was no escaping Hastur’s… individual odor.

Hoping they might take a turn somewhere, he followed them carefully and listened to them.

“Can’t wait for Armageddon,” Ligur spoke. “I’ll enjoy ripping those angels apart.”

“I understand. But keep some in one piece,” Hastur said amused and with a nasty smirk. “More fun for us.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Hastur asked. “Lucifer said the angels we capture can be… put to good use.”

“Ah,” Ligur laughed. “Nice! Draw out the revenge a bit and get stress relief. I never fucked an angel.”

“I already made sure that bitch, Uriel, is given to me,” Hastur spat. “Discorporated me a dozen times. I’m gonna make her scream.”

Abruptly Crowley came to a halt. What if Aziraphale and he could not stop it? What if the War came? What if Aziraphale fell into the claws of Hell?

The demon turned on his heels and rushed back to where he came from.

*

“Crowley, what an annoying surprise,” Beelzebub said. “I thought you already returned to Earth.”

“Ah, yes, Lord Beelzebub,” he said. “I have a request.”

“A request?”

“I heard that the angels that get captured during the war are going to be…”

“…slaves, toys, Hellhound food, whatever their respective owner sees fit,” she finished.

“Right, I want to call dibs on the angel Aziraphale,” Crowley said firmly.

“Oh? Why?”

“You remember my brilliant plan in Rome 1467 that I worked on for 13 years?” Crowley asked. “That was thwarted at the last minute?”

Beelzebub sighed.

“Yes, I remember,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “Everybody remembers that because you wouldn’t stop whining about it for decades.”

“Right, or my coup in Brazil, the wiles I had going in Paris, not even to speak of London…”

“Crowley, do you have a point or is this just a re-run of ‘Failing and whining with Crowley’? Because I know that show.”

“My point is, whenever I failed – and you have to admit I don’t fail often,” Crowley said and Beelzebub grudgingly grunted in agreement. “Whenever I failed – Aziraphale!”

“All your ill successes were due to the same angel?”

“Yupppp,” he said, drawing out the ‘p’.

“Must be one clever bastard.”

“He is.” Crowley gave her a dirty grin. “But that won’t help him when he is kneeling in chains in front of me, choking on my cock, will it?”

Crowley felt sick, speaking of his oldest and best friend in this dehumanizing – or de-angelizing – manner, but it had the desired effect on Beelzebub. Her uninterested mien had turned into an expression of pleasant surprise.

“Didn’t think you had that in you, Crowley,” she said approvingly and snapped her fingers.

A book bound in dark leather appeared in her left hand and a pen in her right. She opened the book and began scribbling. When she had finished, she snapped the book shut and looked back at Crowley.

“Alright, it’s done,” she said.

“Great,” Crowley smirked. “And nobody else touches him when he gets here? I want to be the one to…”

“…pop his cherry?” she asked. “Don’t worry. Your claim has been made. Measures are taken as soon as he enters Hell so that nobody else will touch him.”

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed.

Then he left Hell as fast as he could. Trying not to think of Aziraphale captured by the forces of the Damned. Of chains forged in Hellfire snapping around pale wrists, of a luscious body spread out for him to use, writhing against his restraints, of dark red and purple marks of teeth and nails on soft white skin.

**Soho, now**

“So you’re saying that this symbol marks me as your property?” Aziraphale asked, incredulous.

Crowley had left out the details of his conversation with Beelzebub which probably explained why the angel was just shocked not furious.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” Crowley pleaded. “I was told ‘measures’ were taken so that other demons stayed away from you but not what kind of measures.”

“I guess now we know,” Aziraphale said dryly, twisting his head to catch a glance at his newly acquired tattoo.

“Aziraphale, I’m…” Crowley started again.

“Will you stop apologizing, dear,” the angel said resolutely. “You wanted to protect me! You couldn’t have foreseen this. And a snake symbol on my shoulder sure is the lesser evil compared to being at the mercy of, for example, Duke Hastur.”

Crowley scratched his head. Of course he was relieved that Aziraphale was not mad at him. But he did not really feel he deserved this absolution. But what could he say?

 _“Please hate me because after I made my claim on you, I had dozens of furious wanks thinking about you chained to my bed.”_?

No, not good.

“I’ll help you go through your smart books,” he said instead. “Together we’ll find a way to remove it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Aziraphale smiled. “But not now. Let’s not ruin this cozy evening with this.”

“No?” Crowley asked confused. “I’d thought you wanted…”

“There is no rush, dear,” Aziraphale said happily. “There is no war, we aren’t enemies and it’s just a snake. It probably stings a bit because it is basically a fresh tattoo. Oh, does this make me a bad boy now?”

Crowley could not help but smile at Aziraphale’s beaming face.

“Angel,” he said. “If we covered you in snake tattoos from head to toe, it wouldn’t make you a bad boy.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the angel giggled. “More scotch, dear?”

And with that the problem of Crowley’s mark on Aziraphale was settled for Aziraphale. For Crowley it was not.

[1] Aziraphale could only guess, modern fashion was Crowley’s métier.

[2] In some cases quite literally.

[3] Aziraphale was unimpressed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the smuttiest chapters I have ever written. Keep that in mind and please read the (updated) tags. There is no noncon between Aziraphale and Crowley but things get rough!

For weeks nothing happened. Crowley would ask Aziraphale every time they met whether or not he had made any progress with the removal of the mark. Aziraphale would just smile softly and say things like “I’m on it” or “I’ll look into it later”. When Crowley offered his help, the angel would wave it off and politely decline.

“Don’t concern yourself,” he had told Crowley. “I know that you don’t like to read books and the research would quickly bore you. I’ll take care of it.”

Only he did not. Every time they met, Crowley would ask if the mark was still there. But he always knew the answer before Aziraphale gave it. Even without asking, the demon could feel the mark was there. He could sense it, black on white under layers of clothes. It was calling out to him, begging to be freed from the weight of the fabric that hid it from the world.

Crowley could not deny that he had always been a little bit jealous when some human got too much of his angel’s attention, let alone of his approval. But since he knew this mark was there under the old-fashioned tartan clothes, it had gotten 10 times worse. Whenever the waiter smiled too brightly at Aziraphale, whenever a customer stood too close to him, whenever a passerby gave a too long glance, Crowley wanted to turn Aziraphale’s back on the culprit, rip open his coat, vest and shirt at the shoulders and show off the mark, screaming “See? He’s mine! Back off!”

But of course he did not do that. Crowley had everything under control. Regular masturbation sessions in the shower, the bed and – on occasion – in the Bentley did the trick. Until that accursed winter night in Tadfield.

They had visited Anathema and Newt[4]. The pretty witch had permanently settled in Jasemine Cottage and Newt, by now her fiancé, had stayed with her. That made sense. One could be bad with computers anywhere. The visit had not been too dull and Crowley was in a fairly good mood, the conversation and the wine taking his mind of the black snake on the angel’s shoulder.

It had been a while that he could just listen to Aziraphale adorably prattle on about one of his many interests without being disturbed by his demonic libido. So he followed the conversation, mostly carried by the angel and Anathema, with a smile, enjoying the light feeling of intoxication and the lovely voice of his best friend.

When they bid their goodbyes to the human couple, they were still caught up in their latest conversation.

“I just don’t understand why an evil deity that has come to destroy the world would give his foes the chance to pick his form.”

“I don’t know, angel. I guess that is just his thing. Some sort of brand, I guess.”

“But what if those four gentlemen wouldn’t have been on the roof? Whose mind would he have read? And why mind-reading anyway? Why not just ask?”

“Well, they _were_ there and mind-reading is very convenient. If you tell someone to pick the form of their destructor, they might just keep quiet. So he goes for mind-reading.”

“See where it’s got him.”

“You won’t ruin that movie for me, Aziraphale. It’s one of the best the 80s have to offer.”

“Now that doesn’t say much, dear.”

“Excuse me? You want to walk home?”

“You should know better than to kill the messenger. Or kick him out of your car.”

Crowley was happy how easily and naturally they fell in their banter and did not pay much attention to the first flakes of snow dancing towards the ground. But incredibly fast those first innocent agents of winter turned into a fully grown blizzard.

“What the Hell?” Crowley cursed.

“This is unusual,” Aziraphale said. “Especially for Tadfield.”

“No kidding,” Crowley grumbled. “Cannot see further than the bonnet.”

The car came to a halt. Cursing Crowley pressed his nose against the window, observing their situation.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t want to discorporate us, but miracling that storm away will take a lot of our power.”

“And let’s not forget that Adam wouldn’t like us messing with Tadfield’s weather,” Aziraphale added.

“Yeah, right,” Crowley sighed. “So let’s just miracle the car warm enough, maybe some tea and we spend the night here, listen to music, have a chat…”

“Or we rent a room in this Bed and Breakfast,” Aziraphale interrupted, pointing at a small road, branching from the main street next to a sign, informing any passerby that the “Tadfield Northstar” was only five minutes away.

Crowley swallowed. Whenever they had slept in a hotel in the past, they had shared a room. Because why not? They were best friends, they enjoyed each other’s company and wanted to protect each other. But who would protect Aziraphale from Crowley?

There was, however, no way to get separate rooms without either telling Aziraphale what was wrong or hurting his feelings by demanding to sleep alone without an explanation.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale ripped the demon out of his thoughts, still pointing at the sign. “What do you think?”

Even thinking hard and fast, Crowley had no counterarguments. They were stuck in a blizzard they could not overcome with a miracle and there was a cozy “4 stars on yelp” B&B nearby.

“Good idea, angel,” Crowley smiled while feeling defeated.

Carefully he steered his car to the left and slowly followed the road to the “Tadfield Northstar”

*

Cold showers were not as helpful as they used to be and so Crowley could only hope that he would be able to stifle his noises. Aziraphale was in their – of course shared – bedroom, switching into his nightclothes. Maybe just now he was standing stark naked in front of the double bed they would be sharing for the night to come. Shit!

Crowley turned the water to hot, letting the stream hit his bare back, and wrapped his right hand around his rock hard cock, bracing himself against the wall with his left. Quickly he started to work on his member, squeezing his eyes shut, summoning dirty images. Normally he would draw it out, picture the thrill of the hunt, imagine wrestling down and chaining up his lovely prey and let his mind narrate in detail what he would do to the curvy body beneath him. But now he had to do that hard and fast. He really did not need Aziraphale to miracle open the bathroom door because he got worried.

So he just pictured Aziraphale without any clothes bend over the Bentley’s bonnet, Crowley pinning him down with his body and slamming into him like an animal in a rut. The orgasm was a weak one, but it sated the physical need. He watched the remains of his hollow pleasure disappear in the drain and turned off the shower. After toweling, he snapped his fingers to dress himself in a lose shirt and comfortable black boxer-shorts. The boxers would not do much to hide an erection. Then again, the erections thoughts of Aziraphale gave him could only be hidden by a skiing suit which would raise other questions. He could not win here.

Sighing he stepped out of the bathroom and froze immediately when his eyes fell on Aziraphale. He was in a sleeping outfit, alright. But, for the first time in a long while, he had decided not to wear one of these ridiculous nightgowns the 18th century must have called him about for a dozen times now. No, tonight of all nights he had decided to sleep in his underwear.

Tartan boxers had no right at all to look so enticing on anybody, but they looked extremely enticing on this body. They were lose fitted and ended roughly an inch above the knee, playing teasingly around the angel’s delicious thighs. The waistband hugged the generous hips tightly as Crowley could see outlined on the white undershirt. That damned undershirt that so lovingly clung to the angel’s skin, revealing every curve and dip of his beautiful body.

Of course Aziraphale smiled brightly at the demon as he stood in the bathroom door.

“Everything alright, dear?” he asked. “You were in there quite a while.”

“Erm, yes, the hot water was too tempting after being out in that blizzard.”

“Ah, I see. I hope you feel better now.” With that Aziraphale grabbed his clothes he had neatly placed on the bed and carried them to the large closet.

Crowley stopped breathing.

That accursed undershirt not only revealed a lot of Aziraphale’s front, it also presented much more of the angel’s back than any other piece of clothing Crowley had ever seen on his counterpart.

And there it was: The black symbol put on Aziraphale, marking him as Crowley’s by Hell’s law. A dark snake curling possessively around the angel’s left shoulder blade. Never before had Crowley seen it that way. Sure, he had had a peek under Aziraphale’s clothes, but never had he seen the mark lying free, completely void of any fabric hiding it.

Crowley could feel his demonic side roar in triumph, his vision tunneled, closing in on the angel, scales of his true form rippled along his spine and before he could stop himself, Crowley pounced.

A surprised yelp escaped Aziraphale when suddenly his chest was pressed against the closet, Crowley’s long slender fingers curled around his wrists, pinning them against the sturdy wood to hold him in place.

The demon distantly heard Aziraphale say his name in a confused manner, but he was distracted by the snake symbol he stared at and the angel’s sweet scent in his nose. Vaguely he was aware that his cock was hard all over again – like he had not masturbated in the shower just minutes ago – and he was now rubbing it along Aziraphale’s plump ass.

“Crowley?” he heard through his haze.

“Mmmh?” he hummed into the angel’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

With effort Crowley gathered the remains of his functioning brain cells to focus. He was still pressing Aziraphale against the closet, but could form somewhat coherent sentences.

“We need to get rid of that mark on your shoulder, angel,” he said hoarsely.

“But I… kind of like it,” Aziraphale confessed with a pout.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley chuckled, almost hysterical. “I like it, too.”

Before he could help it, he leant down and licked a long wet stripe with his forked tongue over the mark on Aziraphale’s shoulder. A shudder went through the angel’s body at that and he gasped.

With demonic speed Crowley pulled Aziraphale from the closet, but only to turn him around and pin him again, this time with their chests flush against each other.

“I like it very much even,” Crowley said darkly. “I like my mark on you so much that I want to mark you some more, angel. With my teeth, my claws and my cock.”

Aziraphale looked at him with his large beautiful eyes, wide open and innocent.

“Is this… a joke?” he asked hesitantly with an inscrutable look on his face.

“A jo…” Crowley drew in a deep breath and then all but roared: “A joke? Are you kidding me? I’m so close to snapping angel, so close. Since that… thing appeared on your shoulder I’m on constant alert because all I can think about is to grab you, tie you up and take you.”

To emphasize his words, he bucked his hips, pressing his erection against the soft swell of Aziraphale’s stomach.

The angel was blushing, but he held Crowley’s intense gaze.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked softly. Then he tilted his head lightly to the left and pointed towards his shoulder with his nose. “I’m yours after all.”

Crowley’s breath sped up even more, his mouth fell open and his grip on Aziraphale’s wrists tightened. He gritted his teeth and pressed his eyes shut. What was Aziraphale doing? Was that another attempt to prove that Crowley’s soul held ‘a spark of goodness’? Why was the angel not taking this seriously? Was the mark affecting him as well?

Already the demon could feel the change in his corporation. First scales, red and black, broke through the skin on his back, climbing up his spine and spreading along his neck and shoulders. His nails turned sharper and his black wings shivered on the ethereal plane, threatening to burst out.

“You shouldn’t joke about thisss, angel,” Crowley hissed while he pressed his forehead against his counterpart’s.

“Oh, I would never,” Aziraphale said dramatically. “Property laws are no laughing matter.”

A growl echoed through the room. It took Crowley a while to realize that it had come from his own throat and that he had dragged Aziraphale to the bed and miracled away their clothes. Now he was lying above the angel, his fingers entwined with his counterpart’s, holding him down. His proud erection pressed against the angel’s effort. He could not see it but felt his balls touch soft folds while his shaft was teased by the curly hair of a soft pubic mound. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck and breathed in his heavenly sweet scent.

“You shouldn’t provoke a demon,” Crowley rumbled in Aziraphale’s ear.

He looked into the angel’s face and for the fracture of a second he thought he saw a smirk play along the left corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. But then Aziraphale frowned intensely for a moment before his face lit up in understanding.

“Oh! Demon, right,” he said brightly. “You’re talking about yourself. I should have known. You love talking about yourself.”

Crowley stared. Crowley blinked. Crowley charged.

His right hand grabbed Aziraphale’s blond curls, pulling the angel into a rough kiss. With a snap of his left hand a set of chains appeared from under the bed, slithering along the frame, over the mattress and finally around the angel’s wrists and ankles. Aziraphale gasped into Crowley’s mouth when the metal touched his skin, but Crowley could no longer be bothered to care.

He was busy mapping out the sweet mouth his tongue was conquering and fisting his hand in the soft hair. When he snapped again, the chains around the angel’s ankles pulled Aziraphale’s sturdy legs apart. Crowley sat up and studied the being beneath him.

Aziraphale looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his chubby body was trembling, his cherub cheeks were flushed, his hair disheveled. The pretty cunt that was revealed by now, glistened and seemed to beckon the demon closer.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley breathed while he put his hands on Aziraphale’s knees, slowly letting them wander towards the enticing folds along the soft thighs. “The things I could do to you…”

“Yes, but will you?” asked Aziraphale.

His calm and collected demeanor and the neutral tone in which the provocation was delivered, was more fuel to the fire that burned in Crowley.

With a snarl he dug his nails into the flesh of Aziraphale’s thighs before he drove down to mark them with his teeth as well. His fangs broke the skin, finally fissuring the calm façade of the angel. Aziraphale arched his backed and whimpered. But he did not try to escape Crowley’s teeth and claws. Instead he swayed into the harsh touches, his enticing little hole clenching around nothing as Crowley marked him.

When he was satisfied with the picture of red and purple he had painted on the angel’s upper legs, the readhead miracled his fingernails more human again. Then he crawled up Aziraphale’s body and brushed his nose against Aziraphale’s.

“You like that, hm?” he whispered dangerously while his hand slid between Aziraphale’s outer labia. “You like playing with fire. Let’s see if you can take the heat.”

With that he pushed his index finger into the angel’s tight wet channel while his thumb sought out the clit. Merciless he attacked both sensitive spots, watched in delight as Aziraphale threw his head back, moaning wantonly, and assaulted the now bared throat with greedy open-mouthed kisses and bites. Having the angel writhing beneath him, banished all rational thought from Crowley’s mind. He kept pumping his fingers into his friend’s body while he sucked and bit at Aziraphale’s neck, now and then whispering into the angel’s ear.

“That’s what you get for walking up and down the room half-naked, you little slut,” he said. “Thought you’d get away with it, hm?”

Aziraphale’s moans and whimpers grew louder and Crowley felt his inner walls gripping his finger tighter.

“Oh no, you dirty whore,” hissed Crowley and quickly withdrew his fingers from the angel’s vulva, denying the close climax. “Did you think I’d reward you for acting like a harlot?”

“Crowley, please!” Aziraphale whined at the loss of contact and bucked his hips in a desperate search for friction.

“Please what?” the demon mocked. “’Please, Crowley, treat me like the slut that I am and use all my holes for your pleasure.’? Is that what you want to say?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded frantically, rolling his hips, moving against his restraints.

“What?” Crowley asked.

The angel blushed as he looked into the demon’s disbelieving face.

“Please use me,” he whispered. “Take me.”

For a moment Crowley froze. Then his body started moving on his own accord. His hands spread Aziraphale’s legs wider, his cock lined up with the angel’s cunt and his mouth sought out his counterpart’s in a sloppy kiss. Without further delay or forewarning he slammed his rock hard member into the angel’s hot channel. He swallowed the noises Aziraphale made in their brutal kiss while he chased his pleasure with hard and quick thrusts. To his surprise his demonic side did not just crave a fast and easy release. No, it wanted the angel to fall apart beneath him, to lose control, wanted Aziraphale to cum from Crowley’s doing.

“Come on, my dirty angel,” the demon cooed. “Show me how much you like taking cock.”

He could feel Aziraphale’s cunt pulsate at his words and a dark chuckle escaped him.

“Oh yes,” Crowley purred. “And it’s not any cock you like. You’re about to come on a demon’s cock.”

He grabbed Aziraphale’s knees and pushed his legs up, the chains rattling with the movement. Now he was driving even deeper into the angel’s pliant body. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to climax and for his vagina to clench around the demon’s member, milking Crowley’s own peak out of him. They both cried out and with frantic movements of his hips Crowley rode out his orgasm and finally collapsed on top of Aziraphale.

The afterglow was short. As soon as he cast a glance at the ravished angel and the marks he had left on the light skin, he felt his cock harden again. Possessively he groaned in arousal. With a snap of his fingers the chains around the angel’s joints became longer, granting a wider range of motion. But only for Crowley to position Aziraphale on his hands and knees and crawl behind him. Another snap and Crowley’s fingers were covered in slick oil as he pushed one of them into the angel’s ass.

Aziraphale cried out at the intrusion, neither in pain nor pleasure, just in surprise.

“What?” Crowley taunted him while carefully inserting a second finger. “I spoke of using all your holes and you said ‘yes’, didn’t you?”

It took Aziraphale a while to answer. He gasped while Crowley’s fingers loosened the tight ring of muscles, scissoring to make room for Crowley’s erection.

“Yes,” the angel finally gasped out. “I said ‘yes’.”

“Were you lying to me?”

“No, no, I wasn’t.”

With a self-complacent grin Crowley continued his preparation, now and again placing a harsh bite on Aziraphale’s neck. But then his eyes fell on the black snake again and with a low growl he snapped his fingers.

A moan escaped Aziraphale as he was stretched with a miracle. His head fell forward and he pushed his plump ass higher.

“Good slut,” Crowley hissed and entered the angel’s asshole.

He grabbed the broad hips for leverage and pushed in deep. Aziraphale did not seem to be in pain, but with irritation Crowley noticed that the noises of pleasure were less intense. Impatiently he circled his arms around the angel’s luscious body to pull him up. The changed angle did not do much, but now Crowley could reach the swollen clit and took full advantage of that. At first he teased by circling around it a bit, then he brushed over it with his fingertips, until he finally started to massage the lovely little pearl in earnest.

“You won’t let me down, angel, will you?” he asked. “I want to feel you clench around my cock again.”

“Crowley!”

“Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I... I’ll try.”

Crowley noticed how Aziraphale adjusted his position a little and he allowed it. Soon his graciousness was rewarded with adorable little mewls falling from the angel’s lips. Grinning, he picked up the pace of his hips’ and fingers’ movement, causing Aziraphale to cry out and his hole to tighten around his penis.

“Yesss,” the demon pressed out as he spilled his essence in the pulsating channel. With a complacent sigh he fell back and leaned against the headboard while Aziraphale still was on his knees.

For a moment Crowley’s human body basked in the physical satisfaction of his second orgasm, but then he saw the angel scrambling up, their joined fluids leaking out of both his openings and his demonic soul was mesmerized again. And this damn mark!

Lightning fast Crowley was in front of Aziraphale.

“What a bad little angel,” he tutted. “Look at how dirty you have gotten yourself.”

He reached between the angel’s legs, swiping up the fluids with one swift move. With his slick covered hand he grabbed Aziraphale’s chin, noting with interest how Aziraphale did not even try to pull away. Instead he seemed to lean into the wet touch.

“But you know what’s worse?” Crowley asked. “You made me dirty, too.” He pointed at his hardened cock that was covered in the tokens of both their pleasure. “You should apologize don’t you think?”

“Oh, I’d say you played your part in this, dear, so I don’t see… ouch!”

Crowley had reached down and placed a harsh slap on the angel’s left ass cheek.

“What was that?” he asked.

Aziraphale looked at him defiantly.

“I said that you are at least equally res… ouch! Crowley!”

“Not exactly what I wanted to hear,” Crowley grinned after delivering a slap to the right cheek.

Aziraphale pouted, but finally murmured: “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t quite catch that, angel.”

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale said primly. “For getting you dirty.”

“Hmm,” Crowley hummed self-satisfied. “I’ll forgive you when you clean me up.”

“Okay,” the angel nodded, but then remained passive.

“So?” Crowley asked more amused than impatient after a while.

Aziraphale lifted his arms and looked at his chains.

“I can’t miracle them away,” he said.

“Yupp,” Crowley affirmed. “Forged in Hellfire. Angelproof. But what has that to do with anything?”

“Well,” Aziraphale huffed. “How am I supposed to go to the bathroom and get stuff to clean you up?”

At that Crowley could not stifle a laughter. Aziraphale cast him an offended look, but the demon ignored that.

“What a sweet thing you are,” he said and grabbed Aziraphale’s hair, pressing him down towards his erection and ordered: “Suck!”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes widened, he blushed deeply, but submitted. He parted his pink lips and wrapped them around Crowley’s cock and obediently sucked their mixed fluids from Crowley’s erection.

At some point Aziraphale apparently thought he had removed the slick and it was probably true, but still Crowley let not move him away. Moaning the demon gripped Aziraphale’s curls tighter, pushing himself deeper into the sweet mouth.

“I decide when you’re done, slut,” he growled, bucking his hips. “Understand?”

Aziraphale looked at him and nodded.

“Good angel,” Crowley purred.

For a while the demon just enjoyed the sensation of Aziraphale licking and sucking his erection, but with growing arousal his instincts took over. He held Aziraphale’s head tighter and started rolling his hips. Soon Aziraphale was just held in place and Crowley fucked his mouth. Aziraphale hummed eagerly around the demon’s member, the sound urging Crowley on even more. Moving in and out, faster with every second until his vision became blurry and pleasure overcame him in a hot white sensation. With a shout he released deep in the angel’s throat. For long seconds he held Aziraphale in place, making him swallow.

When he could see and think clearly again – at least for the moment – he looked down on Aziraphale. He saw the angel, clearly exhausted, wipe the corner of his mouth and guilt crept into his lust hazed mind. Aziraphale was his best friend. A sweet and kind creature that deserved to be worshipped and he had used him as a sex toy repeatedly.

“What are you doing to me, angel?” he whispered as he pulled out.

But Aziraphale did not answer. Eyes closed, he remained kneeling in front of Crowley. He was breathing heavily, his plush stomach moving up and down. To Crowley’s dismay his cock hardened again at the sight.

“Why did you have to play with fire?” the demon asked further. His hand slid from the angel’s hair over his neck towards the black snake on his shoulder. “Since you wear this mark…”

“Is it just the mark?” Aziraphale’s voice was barely a whisper.

Crowley furrowed his brows. He had not expected that question.

“No, it just makes it worse,” he answered truthfully. “I wanted to make you mine for centuries.”

“Funny,” Aziraphale remarked.

“Funny?” Crowley hissed. “How is that funny?”

“I wanted to _be_ yours for centuries,” the angel admitted. Biting his reddened lips, he averted his gaze. “I just didn’t think you’d want to have me. That’s why I like the mark so much. It marks me as something you would deem worth possessing.”

He started fiddling with his hands in front of his soft belly before he finally hesitantly spoke again.

“I… I love you,” he said faintly.

Crowley who had been staring at the mark on Aziraphale’s shoulder snapped his gaze to the angel’s face. Aziraphale was still not looking at him.

Something happened. The two forces inside Crowley’s soul that had battled each other since the mark had appeared, clashed one more time and it appeared to Crowley that the impact manifested in reality. Those two forces suddenly seemed to become one, fixing something inside him he had not known was broken.

With a thought the demon made the chains disappear. He leant down to put a finger under Aziraphale’s chin. Tenderly he pushed it up and pressed his lips against the angel’s. Very careful he pushed Aziraphale down on the mattress and deepened the kiss. It was passionate but soft. In a dominant yet loving gesture his fingers curled around the angel’s pale wrists again.

“One more time,” he whispered, nudging the angel’s thighs with one of his slender legs.

Aziraphale smiled tiredly and spread his legs. With ease Crowley slid into the slick channel of Aziraphale’s cunt, feeling his own fluids leak out around his cock. With slow rhythmic movements he took his angel once more, pressing soft kisses on the bruised neck. He made sure to hit the angel’s sweet spot with his member and at some point reached between them to stimulate the clit. He took good care of Aziraphale’s needs and when he felt him come undone again, so did he.

“I love you, too,” Crowley breathed out when he came.

He had the right mind to roll off his angel before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep.

When the sun fell through a gap between the curtains, he found that his wings had manifested and wrapped themselves around the sleeping angel. Aziraphale’s back was pressed against Crowley’s chest and the demon’s chin lay on Aziraphale’s head, the curls tickling his skin lightly.

Part of him had hoped that it all just had been a crazy dream, that he had never laid hands on Aziraphale in reality. But then he remembered Aziraphale’s love confession. His brave little angel. Crowley would never have dared to make himself so vulnerable, not even in front of Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale had made that step for both of them, easing the way for Crowley. Smiling widely, the demon decided that there was no way to properly repay this favor, but he would try.

After a few more blissful minutes Aziraphale yawned.

“Hey, angel,” Crowley whispered.

“Good morning.”

“How do you feel?”

“A bit sore,” Aziraphale admitted. “But good. Very good.”

Then the angel sat up and Crowley gasped.

“Wow,” he said.

“What?”

“The snake symbol. It’s gone.”

Crowley lovingly stroke along the white, unmarked skin of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Oh,” the angel said, a little wistful. “Well, maybe what happened tonight…”

“Yeah, I guess a pathetic excuse for a demon who loves an angel and is stupid enough to admit it, does not deserve an angelic sex slave by Hell’s rules,” Crowley chuckled.

“So, you meant it?” Aziraphale asked carefully. “What you said?”

Two strong hands grabbed Aziraphale’s face to pull him towards Crowley. With a passionate kiss the demon answered the question, but added nonetheless: “Yes, I did.”

Aziraphale beamed brightly at him, taking his hand. But then he looked a little apprehensive.

“And without the mark, will you still want to… you know?”

“Fuck you?” Crowley asked to clarify and grinned at the angel’s blush.

He pulled Aziraphale against his body again and reached around to deliver a light slap against his delicious butt.

“That’s not going to be a problem, angel,” he chuckled. “Not ever.”

The End

[4] Crowley was strictly forbidden to call them Bookgirl and Nerdboy in their presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Leave kudos and/or comments. They make my day. :)


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